For the Love of Money

$20,000. It was more than I had earned all last year between my waitress job and working at the convenience market.

In cash. I held the dirty envelope in my trembling fingers and counted it again. I could pay the rent and the bills and have a decent steak. My mouth watered at the prospect. While the burger joint let me have a burger mistake now and then, ramen noodles can get real old after a year or two. I couldn’t help but notice that this wasn’t a smooth stack of sequential dollars; it was a pile of crinkled, used, notes. I felt that someone had taken a while to put this money together. Maybe it was some waiter’s tips or some poor girl had taken these out of her G-string. Some of them really do want to go to law school, you know. Guilt started to rear its unwelcome head. I sighed.

Then I saw the little black notebook tucked into the middle of the stack. It looked old and worn but the letters on the faded front spelled, “Moleskine". So there we are, the owner’s name and address would probably be inside and my sudden wealth would have to go back to where it belonged. It felt odd so beat up and dirty, I'm sure it had been purchased with care.

I got myself a glass of cheap wine, settled into my saggy sofa, and tucked my feet up under me.

His name was Jason. He lived in south LA in the projects with his mother, two sisters and three brothers,no dad in the picture. Big surprise. Okay, okay, I already knew I couldn’t keep his money. The boy had less than me and that was no easy feat.

“Joey died today, shot down in the alley like a dog. He was twelve. I tried to keep him away from the Southies but running for them made him feel like a man. Mom was worried for him and yelled at him to stay away from trouble with one hand but she took the dollars he held out with the other. She looks at me like “What are you going to do?” because I’m the man of the house now that Dad took off again.” I really want to go to college. How is any of this my fault?”

My eyes were starting to water. My little brother Mikey overdosed, you know. And it was my mother who looked at me like it was my fault. That’s why I’m living in this dump, scratching to get by instead of in the three-bedroom ranch in the valley.

When I looked up, it was getting dark. I had to get to work. I blew my nose, grabbed a shower, and ran the couple of blocks to the market.

The Pakistani owner gave me a big grin and tapped his watch. “I knew you would be coming, Carly.” He patted my arm. “You are a good girl.” I smiled back but a voice in my head said, “Yeah, and where has that gotten me, exactly?”

I got home from my shift at 2AM, threw the three bolts on my door and slept for five hours before getting up for my shift at Bobby’s Bagels and Burgers. I was dying to tell someone about the money but I knew that Sandy, my fellow waitress, was as bad off as I was plus she had three kids and, if I did tell her, I’d end up splitting it with her. So I kept repeating, “It isn’t mine” like a mantra all day. It wasn’t until 4 that I had a moment to look again at the book and the money. Damn it. I grabbed my knapsack, carefully tucked both into it, and rode my bike to the address on the sticker on the envelope. It was a long ride to the edge of the city where the big houses were. I was astonished. I checked again before ringing the bell at the gate.

A man’s voice answered. “Yeah?”

“Hi. I, uh, have your money and your black book.” I mumbled.

The gate opened. I pedaled up the long drive and the front door opened. A gorgeous dude with caramel skin and black curls opened the door.

I got off my bike and went up the steps and thrust the stuff at him. I didn’t belong here; it felt incredibly awkward. “Are you Jason Hartman?” He nodded. What was going on? “Prove it.” I said, my chin raised stubbornly. I wasn’t born yesterday.

With a beautiful smile, he pulled out his license. I looked carefully, then pushed the packet at him.

"Here, take it. I found it downtown. “

The door opened wider. “And you rode that bike out here to return it?” He said softly. “Why?”

I blinked back the wetness that suddenly appeared in my eyes. I sure as hell didn’t want to, I could have used it. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it and go away. Lots of smart answers flew through my head but what came out was, “It’s not mine.” It sounded lame.

“Come on in. I’ve been waiting for you.” He said, stepping aside. I took a quick look around and didn’t see any guys waiting to kidnap me or shove a needle in me. “It’s okay, you’re safe here.” I heard from behind me.

I turned to face him. “So what’s the deal here, Jason? What kind of con is this?”

He shook his head. “So cynical for a pretty girl.” He laughed. “I put three of those envelopes out there a week ago. You’re the only one that has returned it to me.”

My mouth fell open. “Three? Oh. My. God. What are you, rich and nuts?”

He shrugged. “Probably. Or I’m a guy who begged and borrowed his way through college and invented a computer game who’s really tired of women coming after me for my money. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be heart broken because you realize it is not love for you but love of money that causes someone to make a commitment?"

I raised an eyebrow and said, "How awful."

After a few seconds he burst out laughing, "Okay okay, fair enough. You are kind, and sensible, and Irish- Catholic?" I looked stunned then smiled, "Guilt."

"So I put it in God’s hands. I told him that if a woman returned the money, I’d have an honest woman, maybe she’d even be the one.” He held out his hand. “And here you are, so may I get you a glass of wine?"

"Is it expensive?"

He looked shocked as I flashed my best disarming grin. His face broke into that smile. "Very."